


'What I'm Thankful For' by Spike

by Laure Alexander (ladyoneill)



Series: The Alpha Series [48]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, F/M, Frustration, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/Laure%20Alexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike's having more computer problems, it's Thanksgiving, and Drusilla agreed to have dinner at their place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'What I'm Thankful For' by Spike

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on December 19, 1999, a bit late for Thanksgiving that year. Apparently I couldn't send email so Spike couldn't send email (this frustration continues to plague me due to my ISP being sold several times and failing to update the security certificates and the SMTP servers.) The whole Scooby Gang plus the LA crew are in this but I didn't feel like listing every single character.

Spike stared in dismay at his computer screen. He had posted several messages to mastervamps@onelist.com two hours before, then had gone back to bed and screwed Drusilla into the mattress and unconsciousness. Returning to his computer, sated and relaxed, he'd discovered that none of the messages he'd sent had gone through.

That idiot so called master of a clan in pissville, Mississippi was continuing to spout unchallenged that younger vampires were more in tune with the world than older ones. Spike had sent several nasty, yet well-thought-out replies, and no one was seeing them!

Quickly he typed in a test message to himself and sent it, then waited for several minutes.

The only thing he got was another piece of tripe from master pissville, this one proclaiming that rap music was the future for vampires. Bollocks to that!

Quickly he clicked on Netscape and made his way to Onelist and into the mastervamps list. Once he reached the 'send message' page, he typed in a flaming reply, ranting for several lines about the validity of punk, the Sex Pistols in particular, 'Anarchy in the UK' as applied to the world in general, and that rap sucked.

Hitting the send button, he returned to his email and silently prayed for the message to drop.

"YES!"

"So, there's nothing wrong with my connection, or Onelist--for once--or my ability to send messages from the Internet, just from my email," he muttered.

"Why?"

Spike spent the next few minutes puzzling over that, then headed for his ISP site to send them a blazing complaint.

*****

An hour later, still unsatisfied, and, as it was yet another of those stupid American holidays, knowing that he wouldn't get an answer any time soon, Spike was continuing to post diatribes through Onelist, complaining to all the lists he was on--Bikervamps, BleachedGods, SexPistolsRock, Slayersucks, and his special list, SlayersucksAngeldick, at which there were a total of three members and he had a feeling that one was that twerp, Harris.

Dimly he heard the doorbell ring, then after a few minutes, ring again. "Dru, get that, luv," he yelled while reading a sympathetic reply from platinum328@aol.com.

A few minutes later Drusilla wandered into the room, a sheepish look on her face. "I forgot."

Without looking at her, Spike mumbled, "Forgot what?"

"The slayer bitch's mummy called last week and asked if we could have Thanksgiving dinner here since everyone's coming and her house is too small."

"What?" Spike spun his chair around and stared at his lover, who shifted from one foot to the other like a little child caught doing something naughty.

"They've brought all the food already cooked, and...Angel's here," she finished in a dreamy voice.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Tell them to piss off."

Drusilla gave him a scandalized look. "I can't do that. I agreed. It would be bad manners."

"Fine," he finally sighed in surrender. "Shut the door behind you."

As he started to spin back to the computer, Drusilla grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the chair. "We are the hosts! Go put on the nice outfit I picked out and join the other menfolk for something called Cowboys versus Redskins." She grinned. "Sounds like a lovely battle."

"It's football, and pansy American football at that, and I'm not joining any menfolk."

Drusilla pouted. Spike sighed and stomped out of the room.

*****

When Spike finally stomped down the main staircase wearing the clothes Drusilla had laid out for him--black jeans, gray shirt- -he found Giles, Xander, Oz, Angel, Doyle, and that twit Riley, sitting around his flat screen forty-eight inch t.v. watching the football game, making various obnoxious comments and drinking his beer.

"Um, Spike, thank you for allowing us to hold the meal here," Giles said graciously.

Spike grunted and headed for the kitchen. Unfortunately it was full of women bustling around with more food than an army would need. Drusilla had jumped right in and was carrying the best china and silver into the dining room. Glancing through the door Spike saw that Anya was setting the table.

"Spike, thank you. It's wonderful of you to open your house for us," Joyce said with a smile as she sliced turkey.

Never able to be rude around her, Spike nodded and shrugged.

"It's not like it's even his house, mom."

Glaring at the Slayer, Spike opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Someone had shoved most of his foreign beer collection to the back to make room for an array of salads and frightening uses of jello. Shuddering, he returned to the football game. That, he understood to some degree at least.

Sitting down in Drusilla's rocker--the only free chair--he scowled at the world, tuning out the cheers of the younger men, and the looks from his sire.

*****

Dinner came quickly, as only reheating was needed, and everyone took places around the table, Giles being chosen as the patriarch and Joyce as the matriarch. Spike smirked at the blush on her face and wondered when she and the Watcher would give into their feelings again--having heard all about the candy incident on one drunken cocoa night.

"We all have to say what we're thankful for," the Slayer proclaimed before anyone could dig into the food.

Cordelia was the only one to roll her eyes, but Spike knew that they all felt the same way.

"Mom, you start and we'll go clockwise around the table."

Joyce took a sip of wine and shrugged helplessly towards Giles. "Um, okay...Well, I'm always thankful that my daughter comes home safe and sound each night, although sometimes she's a little too beaten up to make me happy..."

"Okay mom, we get the picture," Buffy cut her off, embarrassment coloring her face.

"Well, you asked." With one finger Joyce prodded Xander who sat on her left.

"Oh, you're done? Okay...um...I'm thankful that I get to spend Thanksgiving with all my friends, watch a little football, eat too much, pass out from happiness..." He left out the unspoken part--that his family tended to pass out from too much booze and that most of the inedible food ended up getting thrown at other family members.

Anya looked up, frowned, then gave Xander an adoring look. "I'm thankful that I now know what all the fuss about copulation is about thanks to Xander and his exceptional tongue."

Willow rolled her eyes and shot the former demon a glower, then gave her blushing best-friend a totally unsympathetic look.

And so it went, around the table, everyone giving their thanks for something pretty innocuous, until it was Drusilla's turn.

"I'm thankful that I have my Spike back. That he whipped me and punished me until I loved him again and then he fu..." Spike's hand across her mouth cut her off.

"Luv, let's keep that private, shall we?" he muttered.

Drusilla nodded, her eyes sparkling, and he removed his hand. "And I'm happy that daddy doesn't chase after the nasty slayer any more."

At that, Angel groaned slightly and Cordelia patted his leg, trying not to chuckle. "There there boss."

Buffy tightened her lips and glared at both brunette females. "Spike, your turn."

"I'm not sodding thankful about anything." Spike glowered at everyone at the table. "My computer doesn't work right, I can't send email, I'm stuck in this pestilence of a town helping my mortal enemy so that she doesn't break a fingernail, my 'daddy' horns into my unlife way too often, and I can't get any decent football on the telly. Life sucks." Picking up his glass, he downed his wine.

"What about me?" came a small voice from his right, and he groaned softly and looked down at his lover. Her eyes were full of tears and her lower lip was trembling. "Are you sorry that you won me back?" As she sobbed the question, she pushed her chair back and fled from the room.

Spike sighed in self-disgust and was already rising when he caught the hard look from his sire. Surrendering any notion that he wasn't pussy-whipped, he nodded and followed Drusilla from the room.

"Well, that was entertaining," Xander interjected. "Let's eat."

Spike found Drusilla draped across their bed, sobbing her eyes out. Closing the door behind him, he crossed the room to sit next to her. Gently he stroked her back, his fingers running through her curls.

Slowly Drusilla looked up and his heart nearly broke at the sorrow in her eyes. Groaning, he lifted her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. "I'm sorry, Dru, so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll never ever be sorry that I won you back, never, I swear. You are the only thing I'm thankful for. You and your love for me."

Her arms slid around his neck and she lifted his mouth to hers for a tender kiss. "My Spike," she crooned in satisfaction.

"Always and forever yours," he swore, then lowered her onto her back. "My perfect, dark goddess..."

End


End file.
